San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1887-12-15

A TR j TIL .
By "THR DUCHESS"


iti"
81 don't, much"
"Why not, valerief Thought you liked
him." A pretty shrug.
'He is plain and prosaic," she said.
Nonsense, child Do you want every.
body to be like hero Of romancef"
Valerie thought Of Max Beauregard, and
suddenly laughed out.
"Mr. Lawford is far enough from that, +"
she said
"Ahl we'll, go TO bed now, and wake up
WISER" said her aunt, lightly, and Valerie,
nothing loath, obeyed; not because she was
tired, but because she wanted to read her
precious newspaper.
Give me dressing gown, Fanchon,"
she said, when the maid had removed her
evening dress, ''and then you need not
wait. am not going to bed just yet"
Fanchon brought dainty pink dressing
gown bedecked with lace; and thus attired,
and with her pretty feet in embroidered
slippers, Valerie seated herself on the
lounge by the open stove and began to read
the papers.
Suddenly she clasped her hands together
with almost a cry Of Joy. while the blood
rushed over cheek and brow.
Captain Max Beauregard had been ap
pointed to the colonelcy of the til, vacant
by the death Of Colonel -, passing over
the intermediate stage on account Of his
distinguished services.
All, how glad Valerie was! How her
heart swelled within her She read over
and over through proud tears the words
that seemed printed in gold! Then she
laid the paper down, and sat gazing into
the fire, slowly locking and unlocking her
hands; then she turned to the other papers
(she had been looking at the Standard,
and found the news repeated in the Globe.
Yes, there was no doubt about its truth
Why should there bei 1t was only Max
Beauregard's due. How happy he would
be to have won this Distinction How hap
Ply would be all those who loved him!
Presently the girl rose and went to her
desk, and, opening it, unlocked an inner
drawer, and drew out something wrapped
carefully in tissue paper. AS she did so,
her fingers trembling, her cheek flushed,
her bosom heaving, her eye fell on her own
name and present address on foreign en-
velope lying in her desk She paused alb
ruptly; her whole face changing-blanch-
ing-a sudden horror in her eyes. That
letter-received only yesterday from Louis
was like silent witness, starting up be-
fore her to accuse her She had fought
down her conscience, and in a flash she
was brought face to face with it. Words
in that letter-words of faith and endear.
ment-rushed confusedly across her. They
had not made her heart beat as 1t beat Just
now; they had not filled her with gladness,
as those printed words in newspaper had
done. What was it thrilled through every
nerve only to see or to hear Max Beaure-
CARDS name that no word traced by Louis
hand, nay, his very presence, could pro-
duce She looked from the letter to the
treasure she had come for; not Louis pic
ture, but htS-Max Beauregard's; she re.
moved the covering and caught her breath,
as the eyes of the portrait seemed to meet
hers. Then, still keeping the photograph
in her hand, she shut the desk quickly,
and almost staggered back to the lounge,
and sank down, covering her face in agony.
She might have known it; she might have
known it sooner! She had never loved
Louis. How pale and cold seemed her
tranquil affection for him-the same that
day he had asked her to be his wife as it
had been all her childhood-to this pas
siOnate absorption in anOther's identity;
this ecsticy, those long, sweet reveries, this
cherishing of all connected with him.
Her hand stole to the flowers on her breasti
Louis flowers were dead and forgotten;
she shrank from his clasp and kiss. II an
other hand should clasp hers, other lips
seek herS-She shrauk aud covered in
maiden shame. She loved Max Reaure.
gard ay, she loved him with all her strength
and he, maybe, scarce gave her now 8
thought Oh! the shame, the burning
shame of It'll And Louis! she was plighted,
pledged to him; he loved her and trusted
her!
II cannot marry himW she whispered,
pressing her hands on her burning tenn
pies. II cannot, l cdnnOt-it would kill
me; 1t would be sin-treason! l never
loved hislI was mad to promise him but
how should know! know what love is
now-too late-too latel Oh, Heavensl he
might have loved me if I had been freer'
She fell on her face, weeping convulsive.
ly. Poor throbbIng, bleeding hearth
struggling alone in its mUcy-what yet
greater suffering had been spared her, il
she had known one wise and loving friend
to go to with her burden.
But there was none to counsel her, none
to help her. Young, inexperienced, she
must fight the battle unaided; she must
learn the terrible woman-Iesson of wearing
a smiling lip with breaking heart; but to
snap the bands that bound her, how could
she do it, How could she so wrong Louisi
And yet it would be greater wrong to be-
come his wife when she did not love him
still more when her every thought was
another mans.